In Sickness and Health
by zimra
Summary: This time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... No, in this fic it’s the other way around...
1. Part 1

**summary**: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...

**disclaimer**: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...

* * *

**In Sickness and Health**

Part 1.

With his usual brisk stride, Derek Shepherd walked through the halls of Seattle Grace Hospital. He had just successfully completed a craniotomy during which he had removed a particularly difficult hematoma from the brain of a twenty-four-year old rugby player. The guy had suffered a nasty blow to the head during a game and was brought in with very little hope of complete recovery. But after this successful surgery Derek was confident that the chap had very good chances of leading a normal life, at only twenty-four ones brain was capable of overcoming an accident like this.

No need to say that Derek was pleased. With himself, with things going well today and with the fact that tonight in bed he could wrap his arms around a tiny girl that snored and that he could call his. He and Meredith slept together now for most of the nights, but Derek still felt happy whenever he realised she was his girlfriend.

One of the nurses came hurrying towards him, clutching a stack of paperwork.

"Doctor Shepherd? I need you to fill in these forms on the patient-dossiers. It's been piling up last week with the train-accident, but we need to have them in order before inspection comes next week." She shoved the papers in his arms.

"Ok. No problem."

"And Doctor Webber is asking if you've already made up your mind about the new neuro-surgical equipment he plans to purchase. He's expecting an recommendation plus argumentation from you on his desk by tomorrow afternoon at the very latest."

Darn, he'd completely forgotten about that.

"Sure. Tell him not to worry."

Arms loaded with paperwork Derek continued his walk down the hall. Crap, he hated paperwork. He'd have to work till very late tonight to get it all finished in time. Meredith would be asleep already. He suddenly felt tired.

Better to eat something first, and maybe start some of the paperwork during lunch. He had a spinal surgery scheduled for that afternoon, and preparation was needed for that.

On turning the corner towards the restaurant Derek nearly bumped into Chief Webber.

"Derek, you're just the man I was looking for. I hope you didn't forget our agreement about-"

"The recommendation for the neuro-equipment? I'm working on it, Chief, nearly done. Will be your desk tomorrow 1:00 PM sharp."

"I wasn't talking about that, Dr. Shepherd... I was talking about the application form for the National Research Project on Cranio-Tech Surgery in which our hospital is going to participate. We agreed that, as the area is your specialism, you would fill out the form and handle the further application process."

Derek cursed under his breath.

"Is there a problem, Dr. Shepherd? Can I safely assume that the application will be in order before the deadline, which is next Thursday?"

"Off course you can, Dr. Webber. I'll take care of it."

"Good." The Chief walked away, then turned on his heel to look at Derek. "And get some sleep, Shepherd. You look pale. Can't risk you getting sick in these busy times."

Derek walked further down the hall, past the nurse-station, but was called back to sign a report. For a moment he laid down the paperwork and rested his head in his hands. A dull ache in his skull made him close his eyes. Yes, he needed good nights' sleep, more than anything. He felt as if he could sleep a day, or a week, or forever. When he opened his eyes, the bright light turned the dull ache into a full blown, pounding headache that made him feel exhausted.

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Like it? Hate it? Please review! The more reviews, the sooner i'll update!

love, Zimra


	2. Part 2

Thanks to all of you for the reviews! They're really nice to read, so please keep it up!

I've done my best to upload as soon as possible, hope you like the new chapter :)

**summary**: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...

**disclaimer**: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...

* * *

**In Sickness or Health**

Part 2.

At the restaurant Derek steered himself through the crowd of interns and nurses towards an empty table. No sooner he had dumped his papers and collapsed in a chair, or Preston Burke appeared at his side, carrying a lunch-tray.

"Mind if I sit here, Dr. Shepherd?"

"Course not, Dr. Burke."

"Thanks. Here, I got you a coffee." He handed him a Starbucks carton.

"But I have some paperwork to do, so..."

"I won't disturb you. Have to fill in some forms myself."

Derek watched Burke position his lunch-tray perfectly straight in front of him, then reaching for some papers and lay them in exactly the right position for him to read and eat his lunch at the same time. He then gathered up a sandwich, one with lettuce and tuna that was dripping with mayonnaise, and began to eat hungrily, not taking his eyes of the paper for a moment.

With a sigh, Derek pulled some of his own work towards him and started to read. He read the first sentence, then the second and then he had to get back to the first because he hadn't got a clue what he just read.

Coffee, that should keep him awake. He took a large gulp, but somehow it tasted bitter and not as refreshing and comforting as usual. And it smelled odd. Made him feel a bit queasy. There was probably a problem with the coffee-machine, wrong temperature or mixture or something. He looked up to ask Burke about the taste of hís coffee, but refrained when he saw the other man reading intensely.

Derek directed his eyes back to his own paperwork. He started anew, but after a few lines the letters began to move. He closed his eyes and opened them again, taking a deep breath. The letters refused to stand still, they only danced around a bit quicker, as if mocking him. Derek squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with is knuckles. The letters now disappeared into a blur. Giving up, he tried to gently massage his temples, hoping for the pounding in his skull to disappear.

"You OK, Shepherd?"

Derek noticed Burke was staring at him.

"Yeah. Just tired, you know."

Burke was peering at him intensely, as if looking for a clue.

"A bit light-headed. I should probably eat something", Derek added.

"Yeah. You probably should. You look a bit pale, man. Have a sandwich." Burke indicated one that was left on his plate.

Derek was completely unprepared for the wave of nausea that hit him out of nowhere. Trying to breath deeply he stood up and clumsily gathered his paperwork from the table.

"Hey man, are you ok? What are you doing?"

"I just.. eh, remembered something... I have eh..." doing his best not to retch on the spot, Derek managed to keep himself together. "There is some food in my locker. Leftovers. I'll just go and..." He made a vague greeting gesture to Burke and walked out of the restaurant.

In an nearby empty examination room he sat down with his head between his knees, breathing deeply. The nauseous feeling passed, but not the excruciating headache. When he stood up to pour himself a glass of water, his legs were trembling and he had to lean on the sink. A glance on the clock told him lunch-hour was over and he needed to start preparing for his surgery later that day.

Two minutes, one glass of water and a painkiller later he left the examination room and headed for his O.R.

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Like it? Hate it? Please review!

love, Zimra :)


	3. Part 3

Hi guys!

Thanks for the reviews! Really nice to read them, it makes me write quicker!

Poor Derek, right? Well, you'd better buckle up cause he's in for a ride... I won't tell what is wrong with him yet, but be sure: it's not pleasant.

**summary**: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...

**disclaimer**: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...

* * *

**In Sickness or Health**

Part 3.

Were the walls of this hallway always so painfully white? Derek felt he could do with some sunglasses to protect his eyes from the piercing brightness.

At his side appeared Cristina Yang. Eager, as usual, to nag him about some surgery on the schedule, and whether or not she could scrub in. Today, Derek wanted to shout at her or, as shouting would probably make his headache worse, strangle her. Instead he tried to get her face into focus as she stated her request.

"Dr. Shepherd. I saw on the board that you had a spinal surgery scheduled for this afternoon and I was wondering if I could scrub in?"

Derek remained silent. He was wondering when that bloody painkiller would kick in, it was so annoying to talk to someone whose features kept shifting before your eyes.

"Dr. Shepherd?"

Finally, his brain was able to focus, and he looked her in the eyes. Why did he feel so damn cold all of a sudden? A shudder, that he was unable to suppress, ran through him.

"Are you ok?" Yang looked at him and then around her as if someone was performing a practical joke on her.

"Yes. I'm fine." To illustrate that, Derek wanted to lean casually on a nearby information desk. It didn't help that he somewhat lost his balance and staggered a few steps sideways.

Cristina Yang gave him her well-known look with the arched eyebrows. "Right."

Derek waited till she was out of sight before continuing his way down the hall. Walking carefully he kept one hand touching the wall for balance. He had the strange sensation of the floor not being entirely solid under his feet, like he was walking on a moving ship. With that thought the queasiness came back. Great, now he was getting seasick.

He kept walking. Slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, meanwhile marvelling at how long this hallway seemed to be. He'd never noticed that before.

He'd just prepare for the surgery, than have a quick nap or some _real _coffee. He'd feel better then, perform the surgery and go home early. Have a good nights sleep and finish the paperwork tomorrow morning. No problem.

Passing a window Derek squeezed his eyes shut and shielded them with his arm from the intensity of the light. He hadn't been fast enough however, because it felt like someone was poking a stick in his brain, causing his stomach to lurch. Bent double, he opened his eyelids just a crack and tried to identify the nearest bathroom. To heighten this joyous situation, the only thing he could identify was the form of Miranda Bailey approaching him.

"You ok, Dr. Shepherd?"

Leaning on the wall for support, eyes carefully avoiding the light he stood up straight. He didn't open his mouth to answer, however, scared as he was of puking right there in front of Bailey. Derek swallowed and breathed through his nose.

Bailey just stared at him. He tried to stare back but was distracted by his rebelling stomach. He wished she would go away so he could dash for the bathroom and puke his guts out. He had to send her away. He could only send her away by telling her to do so. Telling meant speaking and speaking was risky business at the moment.

Bursting from the doors at the end of the hall Meredith came striding towards them.

Any other day, Derek would have been happy to see her, but at the moment she was the last person he needed to witness him in this state. She approached him with a frown on her face, taking in his pale and sweaty appearance.

"Derek, is everything alright with you? Cristina said you acted strange."

"I think Dr. Shepherd is not feeling too well at the moment." Bailey answered for him. "He'd do better to go home and deal with whatever he's coming down with instead of staggering around in this hospital and infecting god-knows-who."

Meredith was beside him in a matter of seconds, placing a cool hand on his warm cheek. "She's right, you're sick. You feel warm."

Her concern was more than Derek could take and involuntary he croaked out: "I'm fine. I'm not-". Then he knew talking had been a mistake, cause he felt the bile rising in his throat.

He retched once, causing Meredith to jump back, then clamped a hand to his mouth and stumbled into the nearest bathroom.

The second he reached the porcelain bowl his stomach emptied itself violently. Sinking to his knees Derek gripped the toilet as the whole world seemed to spin. He heaved again and the motion made his brain feel like it was exploding. Holding himself very still with his eyes closed made him feel a bit better.

He heard footsteps and prayed that Meredith wouldn't come in.

But there she was and he already felt her small hand on his back. She handed him a glass of water, which he managed to take without opening his eyes. After a few sips he moved tentatively, sitting back as gently as he could. He opened his eyes to see Meredith kneeling beside him, concern etched on her face. Although his skull was still pounding and his vision blurred, he had to say something.

"It's just a bit of a headache." The words came out in a hoarse whisper. "Like migraine."

Meredith's frown didn't disappear. Her hand moved to touch the sweaty hair on his forehead.

"Did you ever have it before?"

"Yes", he lied.

"But I've never before noticed you-"

"It's been years ago."

To Derek's relief, the frown on her forehead relaxed.

"I'll just go and sleep it off. Couple of hours should do it."

She nodded and helped him stand up.

Derek felt like the ground shifted underneath him and went stark white. Willing himself not to throw up again he leaned partly on the wall, partly on Meredith shoulders.

"Careful, please", he moaned as they shuffled forwards, her arm around his waist.

Outside the bathroom Bailey, who had been waiting for them, seized his other elbow and so they walked him over to a spare-room where they lowered him onto a gurney. Derek didn't think he'd ever felt more embarrassed in his whole life.

While Meredith searched for a blanket, Bailey was peering at him closely.

"So a migraine, uh?"

Derek wanted to shrink under her glare.

"Make sure you drink enough, Dr. Shepherd. And use this, if you need to."

She placed a white basin next to his head, just as Meredith reappeared with a blanket.

Derek wanted to die of humiliation. Instead he gave them both a feeble smile, that only Meredith returned.

A moment later when they closed the door behind them, the dark room felt like heaven to his tortured brain.

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Yeah, i know, i'm kinda torturing Derek... Just think he's really sweet when he's sick.

Like it? Hate it? Please review!

love, Zimra.


	4. Part 4

Hi everyone!

Wow, thanks for the reviews!!! Glad to know that you like sick Derek, I like him too :) Please keep reviewing cause it gives me so much inspiration and makes me write a lot faster!

As for what is wrong with him: I'm not telling yet, but you can pick up the clues...

This chapter is a bit shorter, but i try to keep updating soon.

Sorry if you think the description is a bit gross, i'm just trying to be realistic.

love, Zimra.

**summary**: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...

**disclaimer**: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...

* * *

**In Sickness or Health**

Part 4.

"I was right, wasn't I? I told you he acted strange. So what was the matter with him?" Smirking, Cristina caught up with Meredith on their way to the OR.

"He's sick. He just nearly puked his brains out."

"Seriously? Man, that's gross!"

"He said he had a headache. Like migraine."

"Yeah, like the one you get from too much tequila, eh?"

Meredith didn't answer and looked at Cristina in a 'you're-so-not-funny' way.

"Hey, relax Mer. He's a grown man, he'll survive a bit of puking."

Seeing her friends concerned face Cristina grabbed her hands and turned her around to face her.

"Shepherd will be fine. Migraines can hurt like hell. Seeing someone in pain can be scary. But seriously, Mer, in a few hours he'll be back strolling the corridors with that cocky attitude of him."

"I didn't really know how to behave, you know... Him being all vulnerable, it felt so strange. And helpless, I just didn't know what to do."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Just... rubbed his back or something. Gave him water."

"While he was puking? Seriously, you must really love that man."

At that moment, Preston Burke turned the corner and made his way over to Cristina and Meredith.

"Dr. Grey, Dr. Yang", he gave them both a nod. "I'm sure you've seen on the schedule that, in a few minutes, I'll be performing a minimally invasive coronary artery bypass on our patient, Mr. Wilson. Are you both planning to come and watch the procedure?"

"Sure." Cristina looked eager as always.

"And you Dr. Grey?"

"Yeah." Meredith's lack of enthusiasm made Burke arch his eyebrow.

"Shepherd's sick." Cristina answered for her. "But I already told her not to worry. He's fine. She needs some distraction, so, yes we'll watch your surgery. Let's go."

"Is he sick? I've seen him in the restaurant before, had some strange behaviour. I told him he looked awfully pale."

Meredith sighed. "Yeah, it's just a migraine, though. He'll be fine."

"That's what I said", Cristina beamed. "Let's go."

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Derek was lying in the dark on his back. The lack of noise and light had made him feel considerably better. He'd even dozed away a couple of times. Now, however, the pounding was creeping back into his skull and settling there, even more consistent and vehemently than before.

Bringing his hands to his head, he tried to gently massage his temples and forehead, hoping for some relief. Wrong move. The slight touch of his fingertips set his brain on fire.

The pain triggered a gulf of nausea that lurched through him. He rolled over and vomited in the basin. The room was dancing around him as his stomach kept cramping, rejecting wave after wave of everything he'd eaten before.

When it stopped he was panting heavily, head still over the basin, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain. There was no way he could stop them, the tightness in his skull being unbearable. Moving his head back on the gurney, painful centimetre by painful centimetre, he became aware of the cramped up muscles in his neck.

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Ok, so what do you think? Keep reviewing and the chapters keep coming soon!

Love, Zimra


	5. Part 5

Hi everyone!

Thank you SO much for all the reviews! Writing went a bit slower this week, due to an enormous amount of studying, but the reviews really kept me going!

I planned to write a longer chapter this time, but that would take more time, so I split it and decided to upload the first half. I really hope i can keep you all satisfied this way, just know that there's more to come and I'm working on it! In the mean time: reviews are a great help ;)

To mcdramaqueen: Your comment made me laugh so much, i really hád to use it! Thanks:)

To jennyblueEyes: Thank you for the compliment! And yes, it's true: being sick makes someone vulnerable, like you wouldn't see him or her normally. As for the use of 'puking': you're right, it is kinda vulgar, but I really think the interns would talk like that among their own. (especially Cristina would use it) But thanks anyway, i appreciate the comment:)

Ok, so here it is: enjoy the new chapter!

**summary**: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...

**disclaimer**: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...

* * *

**In Sickness or Health**

Part 5.

All of the interns of Seattle Grace Hospital had packed themselves on the benches in the windowed room above the OR.

Izzy Stevens had brought sandwiches and offered them at the others.

"Hey Meredith! Sandwich?"

"No thanks, Iz."

"What's the matter?" Izzy was talking with her mouth full of sandwich. "You look like something just really pissed you off."

"She's not pissed off, she's concerned." Cristina merged in.

At Izzy's questioning look she continued. "McDreamy is sick with a migraine. You know, headache, puking, the whole freaking thing."

"Oh, well that's-"

"Gross. Yeah, I know" nodded Cristina.

"What's gross?" George O'Malley leaned in to hear the conversation.

"Shepherd puking."

Alex Karev, chewing one of Izzy's sandwiches, sat down next to them on the bench. "Yep. That's gross."

"And Mer rubbed his back. How gory is that?"

Alex nodded. "Pretty gory, but still sweet."

"Well, maybe it's gory, but it's what you do, right, when you're together?", was Georges comment. "I mean, isn't that part of the deal?"

Izzy snorted at him. "Yeah like: do you promise to care for eachother, for better or worse, in sickness or health, and do you promise to rub eachothers back when one of you is puking?"

Alex and Cristina laughed, but George looked uncertain.

"Seriously, George, are you planning to rub Callie's back when she's sick?" Izzy rolled her eyes at him.

"Hey guys!" Everyone was silent when Meredith spoke up. "Derek's fine. I'm fine. Everyone's fine, so can you just let it go and watch the surgery?"

Izzy looked at her. "Sure." The others just nodded.

"Thanks."

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Derek stretched his hand tentatively towards his neck. He couldn't move it. Just the slightest bit of movement made his skull feel so tight, like it could explode any minute. With his fingers he pressed his neck-muscles which were cramped up and rock-hard.

This wasn't ok. Although thinking was now a nearly unmanageable effort, somewhere deep down, his brain-surgeon instinct told him that a stiff neck was bad. Very bad indeed.

He realised that he needed a doctor. But he was a doctor himself. His befuddled brain seemed to be spinning out of control and for a moment Derek let himself sink away into a calming darkness.

It was then, that his mind became suddenly very clear. He saw his own behaviour of the last two hours as if he was one of his own patients whose symptoms need to be analysed. Headache, blurry vision, sensitivity to light, nausea, vomiting and on top of that a stiff neck: he most certainly had meningitis.

Derek felt his brain go fuzzy again, but this time he made an effort to keep thinking straight. He calculated back when the first symptoms had started and found that the infection had to be really severe by now. He needed to start on antibiotics as soon as possible, if he wanted a chance of getting out of this unharmed.

Somewhere deep inside him a panicky feeling was rising. He needed help. But there was no help.

Slowly, Derek opened his eyes. The effort it took to wake up and to remain conscious made him realise how serious this was. He needed to contact someone. His hands searched for his pager but found nothing. Must have left it at the restaurant.

He could call for help. If he shouted, someone walking in the hallway would surely hear him. Derek didn't like the idea of calling out like a little child, but panic made him swallow his pride.

"Help".

A mere whisper escaped his lips. His head pounded from the effort, yet he tried again.

"Please. Help". There was no way, anyone in the hallway could hear this.

Derek knew he had to get up. He had to find someone before he would fall asleep and slip away into a coma. So, ignoring the blinding pain and the fresh waves of dizzyness, Derek began sliding one of his legs over the edge of the gurney.

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Yep, emsoreoangel, you were right! Poor Derek is suffering from meningitis.

As for the part where he suddenly thinks very clear and calm: that actually can happen. My cousin had meningits and later she told me that, while she was completely out of it and mumbling uncomprehensible, she could think very clear for some moments. At some point she even realised what was wrong with her, really creepy... So i used that experience and gave it to Derek. Poor guy.

Like it? Hate it? Please review! It helps a lot:)

love, Zimra


	6. Part 6

Hi everyone!

Again: thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews! It really warms my heart to read them, and they keep me going with the story, even with all my college projects. I have so much work to do that i find it really hard to update quickly, but i keep trying to do so, and your reviews are helping a lot!

This chapter, once more, is not as long as i planned it to be... although it is longer than the previous one! (yay!) I hope you enjoy it, and keep reading, there's more to come... ;)

love, Zimra

**summary**: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...

**disclaimer**: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...

* * *

**In Sickness or Health**

Part 6.

"So thought I'd try mulberry-cakes instead of blueberry, just for a change you know, and- Hey, you're not really paying attention!"

Just like the other interns chatting among eachother, Izzy had been sharing her latest baking-adventures with Meredith while they were watching the surgery. Meredith however, seemed to be far away.

"Meredith!"

"What? Oh, I was listening! Ok, I wasn't really listening, but please continue."

"You're worried about Derek."

"No. Eh... Yes, I mean..." She heaved a sigh and made a helpless gesture.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Off course you'll want to be there for him."

"Yeah. It's just that I don't really know how. Should I leave him alone or go and check on him? Does he want me near or should I give him some privacy? And do you know what's the worst?"

Izzy looked at her questioningly.

"I don't even _want _to be there. I hate seeing him like that, it makes me feel sick myself. I want him to be his normal, strong, caring self... Oh, god, that really sounds selfish!" Meredith angrily wiped at her eyes.

"You're not selfish. You're not used to seeing him being vulnerable and it scares you. That's normal."

Izzy rubbed Meredith's arm in a comforting way.

"Did you feel like this with Denny?"

At the mentioning of his name Izzy looked down at her hands. "Denny was different. He was never... When I met him he was already no longer the strong guy he used to be. He told me about that and how frustrated he felt. But still I hated seeing him ill or in pain."

"Sorry. I guess I can't really complain with a boyfriend who is alive and healthy. Well, most of the time."

"What I mean to say is that I understand how you feel. But I think that the fact that you hate seeing him like this, is because you love him."

Meredith just sighed.

Cristina leaned towards Izzy and Meredith. "Are you still talking about McPukey?"

Meredith looked away and Izzy gave Cristina an angry glare.

"I only mean that when you're worried, you should go and check on him. Bet you anything that he's sleeping like a baby, and when you come back you can at least focus properly on the surgery."

"I don't know...", Meredith began half-heartedly, but when she saw Izzy nodding at her and Cristina's bracing smile, she stood up. "Ok, you're right. I'll be back in a minute."

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Derek eased his second leg off the gurney and tried to push himself into a sitting position. Every move of every muscle in his body caused him so much pain that he was afraid he would pass out any minute. It was only the enormous fear that kept him moving and somehow, he managed to sit up fairly straight while holding onto a nearby table for support.

The room spun and kept spinning, no matter how still he tried to keep his head. He found that keeping his head turned slightly back, with his chin in the air, reduced some of the tightness in his skull, as this position relaxed the meninx.

With all his remaining strength he pushed and pulled himself upwards until he was standing next to the gurney, legs shaking furiously and clutching the edge of the table for dear life. Nausea engulfed him and he had to swallow a couple of times.

Through the swimming and blurring before his eyes he could barely see the door at the opposite side of the room. Derek knew that he had to walk over there and estimated the distance at maybe five or six steps. To walk those, he knew he had to focus himself intensely, so he took a deep breath and tried to close out all dizziness, nausea and pain.

Feeling like he was completely drunk, Derek staggered two steps away from the gurney. His arms flailing out like a miserable ballerina, he fought to keep his balance. Gaze glued to the door he coaxed himself to do a few more steps. Why was the damn door so far away?

After four steps he felt his clothes sticking to his body from perspiration. A fifth step and the door threatened to disappear into dark spots. He stretched out his arm. Drops of sweat slid from his hairline down to his face. One more step and the doorknob felt cool in his sweating hand. He clutched it like it was a lifesaving buoy.

Derek leaned heavily on the doorframe as his legs threatened to give out. The pain that he had been blocking away in order to get to the door came crashing back to his head. All he wanted to do now was lie down and let himself sink into darkness. Coma or no coma, he didn't care, as long as the pain stopped.

But he couldn't, not before he got out of this room, into the hallway. He couldn't rest before he'd found someone who understood what was wrong with him, who'd treat him in the right way. Because Derek didn't wanted to die, and even less than that, he wanted to wake up damaged.

He'd seen so many of them: young men, once strong, powerful and confident, now reduced to a shadow of their former self. Not being able to lift up their girlfriends and throw them on the bed. Or strut into a bar with a cheeky grin and buy the hottest girl a drink. Or perform their former jobs as lawyers, salesmen or teachers. Strong, intelligent guys who suffered an accident or a disease, and suddenly found themselves not so strong or intelligent anymore.

That was why Derek, with an enormous effort, opened the door and stumbled into the hallway.

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It's strange, but i wasn't really planning on writing his last two paragraphs, my fingers just typed them! But i mean it, i feel so sorry for all those young people who become handicapped. (off course also for the older people, but you get what i mean...) My father died of cancer and while he was sick for four years he was like a grown man with the strength of a baby. It frustrated him so much that he wasn't able to lift his kids in the air and play with them (and off course it frustrated us too).

So to everyone who is in a situation like that: I feel for you and hope that you'll be able to get better somehow!

Ok, back to the story, did you like it? hate it? Please let me know!

love, Zimra


	7. Part 7

Hi everyone!

I can't say it enough: Thanks for the reviews!!!!! They really mean the world to me, especially all the compliments and the reactions about what I wrote earlier about my dad. To everyone who has had, or is still having, the same experience: I wish you lots of luck, love and strength!

As for the story: I know it is taking me more and more time to update, however, I haven't forgotten the story or lost interest in it! I'm just awfully busy, writing papers, taking exams and trying to get everything finished before the summerholidays. But I keep doing my best to write and update, and your reviews are helping loads :)

Enjoy the new chapter!

love, Zimra

**summary**: this time not a story about Meredith getting sick and Derek coming to the rescue... no, in this fic it's the other way around...

**disclaimer**: I would give a sweet thing to own Patrick Dempsey, but alas...

* * *

**In Sickness or Health**

Part 7.

Meredith fastened her pace as she neared the right hallway. 'Just a quick peek', she told herself. She wouldn't wake him up.

As she walked through the double doors, a door halfway down the corridor opened to reveal a familiar figure, tall and with dark hair.

"Hey!" Meredith's mood lightened instantly. "You're awake! Feeling better now, I suppose?" She knew there was still a good 100 metres between them, and that yelling in hallway's wasn't really adult-behaviour, but the relieve almost made her run towards him.

Derek apparently hadn't seen her yet. He hadn't turned around to wait for her, arms wide open and with that cheeky grin of his.

She saw that he stood slightly hunched over. His right arm gripped the doorframe. He swayed.

The sight made Meredith stop dead in her tracks and wiped the smile of her face. For a split-second her mind thought of fleeing. Then she saw Derek loose his balance, clawing at the wall for support, and in a flash she ran forward, reaching him just in time to grab his shoulder and push him back up with all her strength.

From up close Meredith saw that Dereks face was even paler than it had been before. His eyes where half closed, and he just barely seemed to notice she was there.

"Derek! Derek, look at me. Can you hear me?" She touched his burning cheek and tried to look into his eyes, which were glassy and far away.

"Sweety, why are you here? You're sick, you should be sleeping."

"Mer?" She finally saw a hint of comprehension on his face.

"Yes, I'm here."

One of his hands gripped her shoulder with a surprising strength and he apparently did his best to focus on her face. He mumbled a sentence that Meredith couldn't understand, so weak and hoarse sounded his voice.

"Derek, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"

"Mer...", but the rest of his words where, although this time loud enough, completely un-comprehensible.

Meredith felt a rush of panic inside her. This wasn't good. Why couldn't he talk?

Suddenly, without any warning at all, he bent forward and threw up. Vomit splattered on the floor, on Meredith's pants and on both of their shoes. Ignoring her own gagging-reflex, Meredith put her arm around him and used her weight to keep him upright, as his balance was in danger again.

"Derek, you're sick. You need to lie down."

He vomited again, this time down the front of his clothes.

Cringing at the smell, Meredith tried to steer him away from the mess and back into the room where he had been resting before. But for some reason, Derek was resisting her and now started uttering again, in complete gibberish, muttering feverishly and pulling at her arm. The more she tried to guide him, the more distressed he was becoming. The last thing she needed was him panicking, so Meredith relaxed her grip and stroked his back lightly to calm him down.

"You don't need to operate. Someone else will do the surgery. You just need to lie down."

He was still struggling to say something, clearly frustrated. Meredith positioned herself in front of him, seeking eye-contact.

"You're sick, Derek. You need to lie down, so I can examine you. I need to know what is wrong with you."

This, finally, seemed to calm him down a bit. He let her steer him into the room, in the direction of the gurney. Meredith hadn't foreseen, however, that as soon as they stepped away from the door and the wall that Derek had still been touching for balance, his knees shook and he was leaning on her with his full weight. She felt her own knees buckling, both of them swayed and she knew she couldn't support his weight long enough to get him on the gurney. Instead, she tried to carefully lower him down to a kneeling position, shielding his body with her own until they where both lying on the floor. His eyes where closed now, and Meredith grabbed a blanket that was just in her reach to use as a make-shift pillow under his head. When she tried to lift it onto the pillow Dereks eyes flew open and he gasped. He was in pain. Letting go of his head, Meredith blinked back her tears.

"Honey, I'm going to get someone to help me, 'cause I can't lift you on my own."

She made a move to stand up, but he held onto the sleeve of her shirt and stared at her with panicky eyes.

"No, I won't leave you. But I need help." Tears now streamed down her cheeks.

She touched his burning forehead and when she saw him flinch at the touch, she took a quick decision and stood up.

"Hold on, I'm back in a second."

At the door she looked over her shoulder at Derek lying on the floor. Then she ran out of the room and into the hallway.

* * *

Oh, I know I'm torturing both you and Derek with such an awfull cliffhanger... but don't worry, just wait for the next chapter! ;)

Like it? Hate it? Please review!

love, Zimra.


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